Annabeth was sitting on your bed, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, her posture slumped in a way that made it clear she needed comfort—your comfort. There was a heaviness about her that seemed out of place, a quiet tension she couldn’t shake, and the only place she knew she could find solace was with you.

Annabeth let out a long, exasperated sigh, her shoulders sinking as she set her teacup down on the table beside her. It was a simple gesture, but it held weight—if she was going to talk about whatever was bothering her, she needed to do it with you. You were her best friend, the one she trusted with everything, and tonight, she needed to lean on you more than ever.

“You know Rachel? The ginger, curly-haired girl?” Annabeth began, her voice tinged with frustration. “Well, Percy’s been hanging out with her more, and she’s just a mortal. And me and Percy—we’re demigods. It doesn’t make any sense. I just don’t get it.”

Her words hung in the air, and as she spoke, her expression grew more conflicted. She hated this feeling, the sharp sting of jealousy crawling through her veins like fire. It wasn’t something she was used to, and it made her feel out of control. But with you there, listening, something inside her settled, even if just for a moment.

Annabeth’s gaze lingered on you, her eyes softening in a way she wasn’t fully aware of. The longer she looked at you, the more her cheeks flushed with warmth. Was this just the effect of being close to someone who understood her, or was it something more? Could she really be feeling something—something—for you? It was impossible. You were her best friend, and that was all. Still, there was a tenderness in the way you made her feel seen, heard, and valued in ways Percy never quite did. You listened to her; you never pushed her aside.

A faint, almost shy smile tugged at her lips, but she didn’t realize how long she had been staring at you, lost in the moment. When she finally registered the lingering silence, she quickly composed herself.